


Celebrations

by Tedronai



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: AMoL spoilers, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/pseuds/Tedronai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after the Last Battle, a group of old friends gathers to celebrate the changing of the year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashcat/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! ^_^ I hope this is sufficient -- when I saw your prompt, I wanted to include all (or almost all) of the pairings instead of just one and I even had an idea how to do it in a way that makes sense. I was going for a warm feeling with a slightly melancholy undertone, and I hope I succeeded! This isn't the type of thing (or characters) that I usually write about, but it was fun and I hope you enjoy the result!

It must be a rare event, Nynaeve mused, that so many of such distinguished personages were gathered under the same roof in such a casual manner. Even the roof itself — the manor house originally built for Perrin and Faile, nowadays the home of Tam al’Thor, Lord of the Two Rivers — was rather casual, considering that those present included at a quick count the rulers of three countries, two royal consorts and an adviser, a lord and steward of an autonomous region, and… She frowned. Aiel didn’t have lords or ladies, but Aviendha was certainly highly respected among the Wise Ones and therefore counted.

The servants had been dismissed for the day; it wouldn’t do to have the villagers gossip that half the royalty of the continent had visited the Two Rivers in the dead of the night to celebrate the changing of the year without formalities. Nynaeve accepted the cup of mulled wine that Elayne offered and smiled at the younger woman, who smiled back before moving on to hand another cup to Lan. Her gaze strayed to the herd of children playing in front of the fireplace, watched over by their grandfather, the solid, white-haired Tam al’Thor. Two of the children were Elayne’s, the twins Egwene and Gawyn, and the other four were Aviendha’s. And of course all were Rand’s.

Perrin and Faile were sitting with Min and Galad on the plush couches on the other side of the room. Galad Damodred had seemed a bit out of place at first, but as Elayne’s brother — and, as it turned out, Rand’s — he had been welcomed with open arms and was participating in the conversation quite naturally. Nonetheless, Nynaeve suspected that everybody were relieved that he hadn’t brought his wife; Berelain had become a much more reasonable woman since the war and marrying Galad, but there was too much history for her to ever be a comfortable part of the group. Or at least yet.

More awkward, somehow, was Mat, sitting near the chatting and laughing group but clearly apart. His wife, the Seanchan Empress Fortuona — may she live forever, Nynaeve thought wryly — was an even more touchy topic than Berelain, and for good reason. As of the last attempt at negotiations, the practice of collaring channellers still persisted and there had been no progress in agreeing to even return those Aes Sedai captured before the war. It was not Mat’s fault, there was only so much he could do to sway his royal pain in the backside of a wife’s mind and nobody certainly blamed him, but he had been so optimistic, so convinced that Fortuona would see reason, that the lack of progress regarding the matter hit him hard.

 

“Aren’t we missing somebody?” Lan asked quietly. “I thought the sheepherder was supposed to show up.”

“He will,” Nynaeve replied absently, looking at Elayne, Aviendha and Min in turns. The three were still, to the best of her knowledge, bonded to Rand and none of them displayed any signs of anything gone wrong. Through her own bond to Lan, she felt his wry amusement as he followed her gaze; they had both been present when Rand had declared his love to all three, and they to him. The encounter had been one of the most… Nynaeve tried to think of a suitable word, eventually settling on ‘interesting’. Certainly one of the most interesting moments in her life.

“It seems to work for them,” Lan noted.

Nynaeve gave him a mock-stern look. “Not getting any ideas, I hope?”

Lan chuckled. “Wife, you’re almost more woman than I can handle.” And although his voice was wry, the love she felt through the bond was deep and vast as an ocean.

“Yes, well.” Nynaeve smiled back. “We can talk about this ‘handling’ later at length…”

“In as great detail as you wish,” the King of Malkier promised solemnly.

 

And then, as if reacting to a sound nobody else could hear, Min, Elayne and Aviendha all looked towards the door… Which opened to admit a tall, young man with black hair and blue eyes. Seeing him this way was always a bit jarring; Nynaeve had been there at Shayol Ghul when Rand had fought the man — the Forsaken — he had called Elan. She had no idea how exactly Rand had ended up in the Forsaken’s body, but objectively speaking it was not such a bad deal. Rand had been given a new chance at something remotely resembling a normal life, in a body that was healthy and whole, and the beaten and battered body he had used to inhabit had perished with the Forsaken who had given it the first of the never-healing wounds. 

She had talked about this with Rand at some length, to explain — even though he had never asked — why she might be caught watching him with a frown. He had seemed to understand. Of course, he had also made a cryptic comment about how Elan might find the poetry of the whole thing fitting. She was never going to get used to Rand offhandedly mentioning one of the Forsaken as though they had been childhood friends!

 

“I hope I’m not late,” Rand said, and although the voice was all wrong, the grin that accompanied the words was pure Rand.

Min sniffed and rolled her eyes. “When have you ever been on time?” she said, but the fond tone of her voice belied her words. This made him chuckle, and the others joined in on the laughter.

Rand moved on to greed everybody individually. “So, how’s Saldaea? Still cold, I suppose?” he asked Perrin and Faile. “I hope you’re not getting bored without all the Trolloc raids and such.”

“We manage,” Perrin replied with a grin, while Faile rolled her eyes eloquently. “Thank you.” 

“And Malkier.” Rand turned to Lan and Nynaeve. “I really should visit more often. I barely recognise the place whenever I drop by!”

“Yes,” Nynaeve replied. “You should.” But they both knew he wasn’t going to, at least not in the near future. The risk of having someone who shouldn’t, recognise him and spread the word that the Dragon Reborn was not in fact dead at all was only part of the reason. As much as Rand loved his friends — and Nynaeve knew he did — after being the focus point of the entire Pattern for a handful of long, long years, he still valued solitude over company most of the time. They had talked about this, too, and Rand had assured her that it would pass, that he just needed time.

“You know you’re welcome whenever,” Lan said, in his steady, calm manner. Nynaeve didn’t know what the two of them had talked about, or if they talked about anything at all when she left them alone, but they had always shared an understanding of sorts, from the very beginning. She was glad; neither of them had too many close friends.

Rand smiled. “I know, Lan, and you know how much I appreciate it.” Lan merely nodded in response; it was enough. Then Rand moved on and came face to face with Galad. “Brother,” he said, grinning widely. “Light, it’s good to see you again!”

“Likewise, brother,” Galad replied. He appeared to have come to terms with the fact that the Dragon Reborn was his half brother and there was genuine warmth between the two men, even if it was more reserved. “I feel I should probably add that you’re always welcome to visit Mayene as well, but…”

“Ah, yes,” Rand said. “Thank you but… no.” His smile took on a slightly sheepish quality. “Maybe some day.”

Galad nodded. “Some day.”

 

Then it was Mat’s turn. “And you,” Rand said. “Let any badgers loose in the Seanchan court yet?”

Mat flashed a grin, and it even seemed almost genuine. “That must be the one thing I haven’t tried yet. Think I should?”

“If you decide to do that, let me know and I’ll find a way to be there to see it!”

A bit more of the shadow seemed to lift again as Mat replied, “Deal!”

 

Elayne came up to Rand and handed him a cup of mulled wine; he accepted it and followed her to sit cross-legged on the floor with his father and children and Aviendha. Min joined them after a second. Watching the lot of them made Nynaeve’s heart swell with gratitude that they all had been given the chance to experience this together. There was healing in moments like these, the kind that the One Power could never emulate.

 

They all stayed up late into the night, almost morning, except the children of course; they each fell asleep in the arms of a parent or an aunt or an uncle or a grandfather, secure in the shared love of their extended family. In hushed tones, so as not to disturb the little ones, the conversation inevitably turned to reminiscing about the times before the fateful Winternight what seemed like a lifetime ago. Especially Galad seemed to want to hear everything about growing up in Emond’s Field — and curiously enough, this finally seemed to pull Mat out of his dark mood and in not too long he was telling story after story about everything he, Rand and Perrin had got up to before leaving home. Galad himself shared a couple of stories in turn, and although amusing, they turned the mood slightly solemn because the hero of these stories was never Galad himself, but his brother Gawyn, who had died in the Last Battle.

There was healing in remembering the good times with those now lost.

 

When the eastern sky began to turn from black to grey in the hours approaching dawn, it was time to leave. Nynaeve stood up, little Egwene in her arms. “We’ll come to Andor with you first and help you with the little ones,” she said with a smile when Elayne gathered gathered little Gawyn and one of the others in her arms. Lan nodded, holding two sleeping red-haired babies as though he had spent his whole life looking after children. Nynaeve smiled fondly at him; he truly was a wonderful father, just like she had always known, and Light willing they would have more children of their own soon. 

In the meanwhile Elayne opened gateways for Perrin and Faile to Maradon, rebuilt since the war, and for Galad to Mayene. “Where would you like me to port you?” she asked Mat.

“Ebou Dar is fine,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll manage from there.” He turned to Rand, and the two friends clasped hands. “I’m going to hold you to that badger thing. I’ll send word and you’d bloody well better show up.”

“That’s a promise,” Rand replied, earning exasperated eyerolls all around. When Mat was gone, he picked up the fourth red-haired child and wound his other arm around Aviendha’s waist; she still had trouble walking since the explosion that had ruined her feet. “Next stop, Andor, no?” Three heads nodded vigorously.

“And don’t even think of vanishing before morning,” Min said sternly.

“Midday,” Elayne corrected. “At least.” Aviendha nodded along to her first-sister’s words.

“Light!” Rand laughed. “I’ll stay as long as you want. You know that.”

 

After a stop in the Royal Palace in Caemlyn, Nynaeve finally wove a gateway for Lan and herself straight to their bedroom in Malkier. This far north, there was not yet any trace of dawn; the perpetual darkness of the long winter months sometimes threatened to get depressing, but with Lan at her side, she could face it. With Lan at her side, she could face anything under the sun.

“Help me with my buttons,” she said and turned her back to him. With surprisingly deft fingers, he undid the buttons of her gown. “I know it’s late…”

“I’d say it’s early,” Lan said with a chuckle.

“Whatever.” Nynaeve made a small, impatient gesture. “Are you… very tired? Or do you think we could continue that talk about ‘handling’ that you started earlier?”

Lan’s arms came up around her and she gasped as he bent to kiss her neck and whisper, “In as great detail as you wish.”


End file.
